Just Like That
by kaorismash
Summary: TezuRyo. If Tezuka and Ryoma didn't have tennis, didn't have the same buchou-kouhai interaction, attended a boarding school and shared the same room in the same house, how would they be?


**Title:** Just Like That  
**Summary:** If Tezuka and Ryoma didn't have tennis, didn't have the same buchou-kouhai interaction, attended a boarding school and shared the same room in the same house, how would they be?

* * *

At Kantou Academy, Tezuka Kunimitsu and Echizen Ryoma are roommates. They only see each other in the morning, at night, sometimes during the breaks in between classes, and more often than not on weekends.

Tezuka, the epitome of order, is always in uniform with his shirt tucked in, buttons done up and his tie corded snugly around his neck. Tezuka is impeccably punctual, whether with deadlines, to class, or training. He's never broken a single rule or gotten a detention, and there's not a single blemish on his report. He's a prefect.

Ryoma on the other hand, isn't exactly chaos, but Tezuka feels like anarchy arrived on his figurative doorstep the day he opened his door to the transfer student. Ryoma is by no means loud, or even outright rebellious. He's quiet, serious, aloof to his peers, and cocky, arrogant, even reckless to his upperclassmen. He's been in a few fights scattered throughout the months he's been at Kangaku, but nothing too serious that could result in suspension.

Ryoma listens to teachers when he remembers to, falls asleep in class other times, but always hands in his work on time — much to his teachers' chagrin it's always of a high standard. There's less vexation with him in the Swimming Club — after the initial clash with some seniors — but nothing holds Ryoma's interest long enough to keep him occupied (besides swimming, but there's only so much competition when the regulars refuse to let him join until the summer).

Tezuka has been asked by his housemistress to "help the American settle in, be his friend. That must be why he's so disagreeable." Tezuka, for what it's worth, has attempted (though not very hard) and has gotten no further than he can throw the boy (which is surprisingly far, for a human person). He reprimands Ryoma for every disagreeable action, but Ryoma never listens to him, and Tezuka does nothing else to keep him in line. Tezuka doesn't know why he puts up with Ryoma's attitude. Prodigy or not, anyone else would already be running a hundred laps around the nearest building (even though he lacks authority over anyone who isn't part of the Athletics Club).

Ryoma knows full well the older boy has a low tolerance for mess and laziness and anything less than perfection when it's so easily attainable. Tezuka himself isn't usually so obsessive compulsive when it comes to neatness, but Ryoma makes him anxious. He doesn't know why because nothing is supposed to make him anxious unless it involves girls, his parents, or the distant female cousins who don't understand the word "incest".

He's deduced that Ryoma is naturally a brat, and purposefully drives him crazy by doing the smallest things that will offset him over and over again no matter how many times he asks him politely to "Please stop taking my socks" and so on and so forth. To name a few: he flicks through the pages of Tezuka's books and creases the corners of the pages, uses Tezuka's things and wears his clothes without asking, puts Tezuka's belongings back in the wrong places even though he's not supposed to be snooping through Tezuka's side of the room in the first place, and messes up all the neatly folded clothes on Tezuka's half of the closet.

Ryoma makes Tezuka feel a number of things, from wanting to wring his neck to glaring murder into his eyes to acting like a child to doing _anything_ to get rid of that smug expression constantly plastered on Ryoma's face whenever he is around. Ironically, the only thing he can't do is ignore him.

An infuriating smirk blossoms from the corners of Ryoma's lips every time Tezuka's train of thought goes down that line, as if he knows _exactly_ what Tezuka's thinking. And every time Tezuka's muscles will tense, and his back will feel stiff, and he'll have an overwhelming urge to _do something_ to Ryoma.

It's odd because he isn't used to feeling so many things at once. He knows Ryoma is just trying to push him to his limits, to see how far he can go before he snaps — Ryoma is an arrogant, cocky little brat that way.

When classes end on the Friday, Tezuka sees the back of a very familiar person and resists the urge to do anything more than stare stoically at his back (and hopefully burn a hole through his head). He paces himself carefully so that he never goes within a certain range of the boy lest he _knows_ and turns around and tries to engage him in a silent conversation that results in Tezuka wishing he could shoot metaphorical daggers out of his eyes (that was Fuji's specialty, unfortunately).

It's useless either way, because Ryoma has an uncanny ability to know when Tezuka is nearby, if the smirk he throws over his shoulder is an indication. Outwardly, Tezuka only inclines his head cordially in greeting, polite student role-model that he is. Inside he's wishing he has something _sharp_ on hand.

When they arrive at their dorm he's somehow just a few feet away behind Ryoma. When Ryoma opens the door — _unlocked_ (Tezuka has to breathe in deep breaths; in, and out, and in…) — he kicks off his shoes, and drops his bag to the floor, aware of Tezuka's disapproving frown from the door. His school jacket flies towards the nearby bunk bed, Tezuka's bed, when Tezuka shrugs off his own jacket, hanging it on the hook on the wall as he slips into his slippers. He refuses to pick up after Ryoma when he walks pass Ryoma's discarded bag; the first time he did it, and the following times after, Ryoma found it fit to treat him like a servant.

He sits down at the desk to work on his homework after sorting through the books for the day and checking his school diary. As he writes down his to-do list on his planner he hears a slam. Sure that Ryoma's gone, Tezuka allows himself to relax, and spends the next three hours dedicated to finishing the assigned class work.

* * *

Being at a boarding school means all meals are provided for. On Friday nights and weekends seniors are allowed to leave the campus. On Fridays Tezuka likes to cook his own dinner in the common room. Sometimes Oishi and a few other friends join him, but being so close to Christmas, his common room is almost deserted.

Almost, because Ryoma is sprawled across the large settee with his hands thrown over his eyes. Tezuka's lips thin into a straight line. "You should be in the main hall," he says tightly as he heads towards the kitchenette area. Ryoma isn't supposed to be in the common room at all for that matter. This was the senior's common room and every other year level had their own.

He didn't expect a response and starts when Ryoma's husky, sleep-ridden voice answers, "Didn't want to leave you alone by yourself." He stretches out his body, back arching as he yawns.

Tezuka is mindful _not_ to look at the stretch of skin revealed when Ryoma's tank top slides up, or think of anything relating to cats.

"You'll miss dinner if you stay here any longer," Tezuka comments as he browses through the contents of the fridge.

"You wouldn't let me starve, would you _Buchou_," Ryoma whispers from just behind him, breath tickling the hairs on Tezuka's nape.

Tezuka's body tenses, but years of cultivating self-control stops him from reacting violently, or showing any other signs of shock. He hears quiet chuckling, and doesn't move until he is sure his personal space isn't being invaded anymore.

"Don't call me that," he orders with a frown.

Ryoma's now reclining against the kitchen counter, sitting on one of the high stools with a chin resting on his palm, almond-shaped eyes following Tezuka's every move curiously.

"But you are." Ryoma looks thoughtfully at Tezuka as he bends down in front of a cupboard, searching for a pot. "A captain."

Tezuka throws him an irritated glance, sliding up his glasses with the back of his hand. "Yukimura is your captain Echizen."

Ryoma waves his hand dismissively, offhandedly muttering, "Not much of a captain really."

It isn't like Yukimura could help being bedridden in a hospital, he was going to say, but the reproach dies on his tongue when he catches Ryoma's eyes, defiance burning in them.

They don't say anything for the remainder of the time Tezuka takes to fry the leftover rice (more than enough for two), all the while mindful of the eyes glued to his back. He jerkily chops up the ham, his grip around the wooden spoon slips ever so often, and he accidentally applies too much sauce to the mix.

It's another reason Ryoma drives him crazy. Tezuka always makes the most obvious mistakes he usually wouldn't when Ryoma isn't in the same room. Tezuka's frustrated with all his little mishaps, and hears clearly every time Ryoma snickers at him.

He trips again, for the second time that evening, and barely refrains from cursing when Ryoma outright laughs at him.

Tezuka glares, pulls off his apron, and walks determinedly towards Ryoma. He brings his face close, and sees, feels Ryoma holding his breath, not blinking, just waiting to see what Tezuka would do. When the irises contract around the pupils to focus on him, Tezuka notices how unusually bright the golden specks in Ryoma's eyes are, notices how absolutely hypnotized he is with them.

Before he loses his nerves, Tezuka reaches over the counter, buries his hands in soft, silky, mussed hair, and kisses Ryoma hard on the lips, so hard it would bruise. He feels pliant hands wind around his neck almost instantly, and can't help but groan in response to the delighted moan flooding his mouth, spreading fire through his blood.

Tezuka feels like he's drowning, but he's suddenly not so annoyed, not as tense and on edge around the younger transfer student.

He doesn't care when Ryoma climbs over the counter top still wearing his shoes, or when he knocks the ceramic bowls to the ground, or when his hands slide down to undo the latch of his belt, or when the tongue slips into his mouth and makes it harder to breath, or when the very heavy body knocks him over onto the floor.

His back hurts, but he doesn't care about that either.

* * *

A week later when Tezuka exits the change room of the main gym freshly showered and dressed, he walks swiftly to the pool where training for the swimming club is still running. His keys have mysteriously disappeared, and the door to his dorm is surprisingly locked when he went back to retrieve a book earlier.

From behind the separating glass, his eyes quickly land on the familiar form slicing through the water. He's racing another boy with crazy, messy black hair: Kirihara Akaya, a boy in the same year as Ryoma if he remembers correctly. He's lagging behind Ryoma, but only barely.

When he opens the door, his senses are assaulted with the sounds of splashes and sharp, earsplitting whistles, the strong, overwhelming smell of chlorine, and the humidity of the stifling warmth washing over his cooling skin.

After exchanging a small discernible greeting with the supervising coach, Aoi Hanamura, on the other end of the main pool, he heads carefully to the end of Ryoma's lane, waiting expectantly for him to stop. A glint from Ryoma's goggles, and a slight falter in his stride that brings him neck to neck with Kirihara, and Tezuka knows Ryoma is aware of his presence. In less than a second Ryoma's kicks strengthen and he speeds up, pulling meters on his competition.

Ryoma executes a full body, not-quite-underwater somersault just before he reaches the wall, creating more splash than necessary that drenches Tezuka's pants with chlorinated water.

Tezuka isn't able to move away in time before his socks are uncomfortably damp. It's only because of self-restraint that his face is still expressionless. Ryoma doesn't miss how the corners of his eyes and mouth appear a tad bit pinched.

He stands still, waiting for Ryoma to stop laughing at him as he pulls his goggles off. There are faint red lines around his eyes from the suction and he's a little bit out of breath. A great splash of water washes over him as Kirihara all but crashes into the wall, muttering obscenities. Tezuka allows himself a small smile seeing Ryoma splutter.

"Where," he uses his no nonsense, buchou tone, not waiting for the boy to recover.

Kirihara points a finger accusingly at Ryoma as he hangs onto the lane divider. He roars angrily, "You said warm up!"

And Ryoma scowls at Tezuka while ignoring his classmate. "Where's what?"

"Keys," Tezuka answers.

Kirihara notices him then, and shoots back into the water when he realizes who it is he'd just ignored. "T-T-Tezuka-senpai!"

"Heeh?" Ryoma propels himself forward so he can prop his arms onto the ledge. He has to crane his head back at an uncomfortable angle to look at Tezuka. He grins slightly at the strange perspective.

Tezuka's face is shrouded in shadows due to the large light just behind him. His angular features are twisted into a menacing scowl.

"Keys was it?" he murmurs quietly to himself. Ryoma tilts his head down and splashes water at Tezuka's pants. His expression morphs into one of childish glee as he grabs hold of Tezuka's leg with a wet hand.

A shock runs up Tezuka's leg, but he doesn't kick the offending limb away. Thankfully, a few seconds later Ryoma is pulling his hand away, grinning impishly at the sloppy wet hand print on Tezuka's tartan slacks.

"What keys are these?" he stalls, but Tezuka knows better. The grin on Ryoma's face gives him away.

Tezuka merely stares down his nose at the treading boy.

"You have three seconds before—" his threat is interrupted by a shout from behind.

"Tezuka!"

Sanada, his mind registers just as something grabs him by his legs and yanks. He barely suppresses his shout of surprise before his eyes burn and the world becomes eerily silent as water washes over his head. He thrashes against the hands still holding onto his pants, and breaks the surface with a loud gasp. His glasses are miraculously still sitting on his nose, and for that he is thankful. Laughter rings in his ears and he remembers to kick his feet and moves his hands in tiny, powerful strokes.

No longer choking from laughter, Ryoma hastily pulls on his goggles before diving underneath the surface. A large splash of water hits Tezuka, but by the time he's able to blink away the burning chlorine and clear his mouth, Ryoma's already halfway in the deep pool.

Tezuka isn't impressed, at all, and it takes him less than a second to compile a list of things-to-do-to-irritating-little-brats-who-delight-in-being-absolutely-insufferable. "Ignore," is at the top of the list, but ignoring Ryoma proved impossible, and even detrimental to Tezuka's health, and anything else following involved whips and chains and many inappropriate painful things.

First though, he has to actually have Ryoma in one spot to execute punishment, and right now Ryoma is on the other side of the pool, lounging back on a foam noodle as he kicks himself around in circles. Not caring that he's rising to Ryoma's bait, Tezuka pulls off his glasses, kicks pass a gaping Kirihara and chases after Ryoma, still clad in his uniform with socks and shoes still on his feet.

Just as he dives underneath the water, he sees a wide smug grin spread across Ryoma's face, and almost curses himself for not getting straight out of the pool.

Tezuka doesn't know why he likes Ryoma. Sometimes he doesn't even _think_ he likes Ryoma.

That however, doesn't change how, later, after Hanamura tries to convince him to join the swimming team, after they've dried off and changed into clean, dry clothes, after they're in their dorm with the door locked securely behind them, Ryoma is pinned against Tezuka and a hard, unforgiving wall.

For the record, Ryoma still makes Tezuka homicidal.


End file.
